Pensieve
by Shoujixyo-chan
Summary: Snapshots, moments-in-a-life, memories, thoughts, and alternate dimensions. -never forget- HPTR


_**PENSIEVE**_

-a Harry Potter fan-fiction-

**TOM/HARRY**

_Snapshots, moments-in-a-life, memories, thoughts, and alternate dimensions._

The bits that don't exactly fit in with my other story. And random moments, snapshots, alternate universes, thoughts, etc. Enjoy. Also incorporated some of Shinning-Darkness' genius. You know, the wand bit. *sigh* Just read it. Listen to Paramore's 'All I wanted Was You' for the mirror bit.

* * *

_{never forget}_

* * *

He'd told- more like _ordered_- Voldemort to get a nose. And by Merlin, what a _good-looking_ nose it was. Harry could just look at it all day.

"Snape must be green with envy." Harry mused idly, whilst studying the shocking new additions on Voldemort's-_ Tom's_ face.

"A fine looking nose," Tom began with a self dignified pose and his aforementioned up nose in the air "for a fine-looking man."

"You're such a ponce, Tom." Harry teased him with a mischievous smirk.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"Magical time-travelling elves." Harry deadpanned.

A moment of silence, then-

"You serious?" Tom spoke with an incredulous air.

Another moment of silence.

"Of course not, you dumb twat!"

Harry sighed and shook his head. Sometimes, it amazed him how _gullible_ Tom really was, really.

It was something he was _definitely _going to take advantage of. After all, the Sorting Hat _had_ implied that Harry was a Slytherin at heart, didn't it? Grinning maniacally, and disturbing a musing Tom, who was muttering under his breath something about elves, Harry set to work on the finishing touches of his _plan_.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"Patience is a virtue, Harry dear, one I have no intention in indulging in." Tom stated with a lecherous leer. Harry sighed, knowing that his backside would be hurting like hell once Tom was done with it. Tom could be _so_ impatient sometimes. And rough. Did he mention _rough_?

-X-

"And what," Harry whispered despondently, and Tom felt his heart ache deeply, "is the point of me staying? I am your reflection, Tom. Doomed to fade away once you leave, once you grow tired of waiting for something that can never be." Tom pressed his hands to the cold, unforgiving glass and wished and _wished_ and **failed**. It was _true_, Tom thought wretchedly, he was tired of waiting and wishing all the time. Yearning, _loving_, and failing.

Harry was only a reflection, after all. A mirror image of Tom, changed somewhat, but still a part of _Tom. _He could not spend the rest of his days withering away in front of a mirror, all for a boy who, once, could have been blood and flesh and tears. The boy with a cursed lightning-shaped scar, a heartbreaking smile and killing curse eyes.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"Then it's only fair that I, Harry, shall give you piece of Hell. Wicked and decadent in pleasure, governed by Chaos and an Angel with torn and withered wings, hidden under a mask of the Devil. And who am I but Satan himself?"

Harry and Tom exchange pieces of their soul.

Heaven for Hell. Harry and Tom, respectively.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"And when the world is thrown into Chaos," Harry whispered softly to an ashen-faced Voldemort "and the fires of Hell burn the world to dust, you shall remember me."

And eventually, years later, Voldemort remembered. With crystal-clear clarity. And he cursed the boy with the eyes of death and smoldering emerald fire.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"So," Tom began with a lecherous grin, folding his arms over his bare chest "has the pupil finally surpassed the master?"

"No," Harry spoke huskily, knowing that Tom still took his breath away at the slightest article of clothing shed "not yet. Would you like me to try though?"

"Oh yes." Tom's gaze only heated up even further. "So why don't _you _start first, Harry?"

* * *

-X-

* * *

_Disgusting, irreproachable human desires._

_Whispered promises, _

_remaining unfulfilled._

_That soft and smooth, _

_unerring cadence._

_Languorous touch,_

_Scorching desire imprinted on bare skin,_

_A brand, _

_a mark, _

_of ownership._

_Wilting, desire, punishable wrongs,_

_Disobedient insolence._

_Incoherent words, meaningless babble, _

_sweet nothings, _

_hushed meanings._

_Dangerous, _

_deadly, _

_siren song._

_Ghosts of our pasts._

"I'm perfection, darling. In the flesh... and all yours."

* * *

-X-

* * *

"We do not judge, but only hope."

* * *

-X-

* * *

"I don't know why you're being so paranoid, so... unsettled. Disturbed."

"Ack- You are _not_ paranoid if the bad guys _really are_ out to get you. Besides, you didn't see the way he _looked_ at me."

* * *

-X-

* * *

"Do you know what you've done, you stupid child? You've created a whole new temporal reality- an _altered dimension_! There's no going back know! Congratulations Harry James Potter, you've just fucked up the universe."

"It wasn't me! I swear- it was him!"

Harry pointed an accusing finger towards Voldemort. His only response was to raise an eyebrow. And smirk.

"See! He admits it! Ha! You can't pin the blame on me now!"

The smirk widened.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"In any case," Harry interjected, raising an eyebrow at the unusually amused Dark Lord "if you _really_ want to set people into a panic- which I don't doubt that you'll do, being the slithery bastard that you _truly are_- then you'd set me up as being your consort, or Equal, introducing me as Lord Trodmelov. People will be hopping left and right when they find out the connection between you and I."

Harry licked his lips. "So, you want to go perform _consort-like _duties?"

Tom actually_ snorted_, then, quick as a flash, started dragging Harry toward his bed-chambers.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"... and speaking of wands..." Harry trailed off, and Voldemort knew that it was his cue to talk. He would be having fun with _this_.

"My wand? 10 inches." He said, watching Harry's face take on a confused expression.

"I thought it was -"

"Not that wand." Voldemort said, smirking. Harry blushed and squirmed in his seat, avoiding the older man's ruby-red eyes, while contemplating his _situation_. His Inner Pervert couldn't have chosen a worse time to pipe up, especially when it informed him that _ten_ inches was _bloody impressive_. And that not many men could claim to boast that much. Harry squirmed again.

* * *

-X-

* * *

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." Voldemort leaned against the door way leisurely, sporting a devilish smirk.

"Ha-ha, considering you're like, the Devil himself."

"Why Harry, so a high compliment from you. I am sincerely flattered."

"Shove your sincerity where the sun doesn't shine, Tom."

"Nuh-uh. Naughty boy. Respect your elders, especially ones old enough to be your grandfather."

"Ugh." Harry shuddered. "Not a prospect that I delight in entertaining, or even thinking of. I'd like to think of you as younger, much, _much_ younger than you actually are, thank-you-very-much."

"I like to think myself much younger too. But alas, Harry, it is much easier to think of you as older than myself as younger. I am far too wise to suit my appearance."

"Right." Harry retorted dryly. Living with Voldemort was simply too much to bear with at times. The man was, oddly enough, very annoying, frequently delighting in irritating Harry to a breaking point.

* * *

-X-

* * *

And years later, Harry would reminisce on how it all started. It began with a boy, and a wish. Harry couldn't help but thank Dumbledore for giving him the best gift of all: his Tom.

"You can be so stupidly sentimental sometimes." Tom remarked when Harry had voiced his thoughts.

"Aah," Harry said with a cheeky grin "but that's exactly why you love me, _dear._"

"Oh no," Tom had answered Harry with a wicked glint in his eyes "that's not why. You see, there's the most _interesting_ thing you do with your tongue-"

He was forcefully interrupted by the aforementioned tongue snaking its way through Tom's own. "I'll show you what else I can do with my tongue." Harry whispered huskily in the shell of Tom's ear, after piulling back from the heated kiss.

They grinned at each-other, before Tom apparated both them directly on top of their bed.

Harry luxuriated on top of the black stain sheets. "Aaah…" He sighed. "This is the life…"

"No, Harry dear, _this is_…"

* * *

-X-

* * *

"The Dark Arts are not only a magical affiliation or a form of magic, foolish child, they are a lifestyle unto their own. It is a powerful and destructive branch of magic that requires control, and above that, passion. If you do not control the Dark Arts they control you. This is the reason why THEY fear it so. You have much to learn of the Dark Ways, Harry Potter, and I am here to teach you. Abstain from using it shall only cause you pain, as it is your magic itself withering away from desire to practice that which you have forbid it. The only way to rid yourself of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for that which it has forbidden itself."

* * *

-X-

* * *

"They would have made you a prince of pureblood royalty, cast no aspersions on your ability to lead them in this time of war. You have been wronged deeply, my child. He had no business in sending you to live you those disgusting, filthy Muggles," he cooed to the boy, caressing his rosy cheeks with one sharp-fingered hand. "They would raise you above all others, lavish you with gifts and tokens and wealth befitting a king. You be loved, worshipped, revered above all. You have been taken from nothing and moulded into a good little boy soldier. Well, no more!" He gripped his face tightly, nails digging into his cheeks and the boy suppressed a flinch.

"Good boy. So beautiful, so brave." Voldemort was gentle, speaking sweet words of nothing. After all, nothing but the best for his Horcrux, his soul. Harry closed his eyes and smiled.

"Albus Dumbledore shall rue the day he took you from me. You are mine, now. Yes… Mine."

* * *

-X-

* * *

"They would have you cast away your wand and cloak and make it seem as though you never needed it in the first place, thinking nothing of it, preaching their soiled and misbegotten ways for all the world to hear. But the thing is, Mother Magic has a mind of her own. Once you are born into her arms, she grips tight and never lets go. _Ever._Resist her and you shall be driven mad from within to what has been taken from you."

* * *

-X-

* * *

"The thing about change is that when all is said and done, you can hardly remember what it was like before- that can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on your situation. All those memories, slipping effortlessly through a sieve. One moment, they're there. And blink. The next moment, they're gone, leaving only vestiges, an imprint, a teasing scent you've smelt somewhere before but can't quite place.

But when change happens, you are unsure; at a standstill. The startling aspect of change is that we hardly know how to venture forth from what we know into the uncharted, murky waters of the unknown. It can be just a little daunting. It can be an adventure. It can be what you make it to be. So don't try to resist it, or control it, just _go with the flow_, as the old Muggle cliché says. Life, for us, is long, but opportunities for a revolution of thought are scarce.

We must band together, for a nation united is a nation strong. We shall face our enemies with fortitude, borne from the ashes of our determination. Lay the foundation to a truly peaceful empire, and coexist in harmony with our fellows. With the help of you, my fellow witches and wizards- yes, that includes you, Undersecretary Potter-, we shall cease to know the pain of war, disease, and hunger!

We are the United Magical Nations of the Kingdom, we are the children of Magic, and may we forever carve our glory into the very history of the earth! I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, as your Minister for Magic, do vow this! From this day forth, we shall lead our glorious Nations into the new dawn! All hail Magic!"

* * *

-X-

* * *

_'The emotion floored him, leaving him a nervous, trembling wreck.'_

It was lust at its finest. Pure, unbridled desire- all for Tom Marvolo Riddle! The future Dark Lord! A psychotic maniac who had the straightest teeth and deepest of navy blue eyes…

Merlin! Was he a Veela? Perhaps a demon? The red eyes would make sense, then. No, he would resist the temptation that was Tom Riddle; even if it killed him.

He was sure it would. Riddle strode towards him with a calm, friendly smile and an unnervingly hungry glint in his ocean-blue eyes. 'Shit, shit, shit. I will not survive this term unravished.'

* * *

-X-

* * *

"The world is awash in all sorts of colors; different people view it in different lights. The colour of bloodshed could also serve as a compliment to gold and bravery, and the lush shades of emerald could as easily be encrusted on the silver dagger of cunning. There is no black and white. There aren't even shades of grey. Reality does not change, but our perception of it does; everyone's is different and trying to change that will do you no better than trying to extract all the salt from the sea without magic- a waste of time and effort."

* * *

_{never forget}_


End file.
